


love is a promise

by spilled_notes



Series: love is a promise [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: After Elinor dies, Bernie recognises what Serena is doing – turning in on herself, pushing Bernie away even though she’s desperate to be held. So she decides to do something about it, something to assure Serena she’s here and not going anywhere, whatever happens.





	1. love is a promise

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Love is not an emotion. Love is a promise’ – Doctor Who (8.12)

Bernie drops into her flat on her way home from work, gathers another armful of clothes and bundles them into her rucksack. More than half her scant wardrobe is at Serena’s now, and most of what’s left she either hardly wears or is entirely unsuited to January weather. She checks the drawers too, adds some tops and underwear, another set of pyjamas: probably won’t need to come back again now. Unless–

Unless Serena doesn’t want her there any more.

Bernie sits heavily on the bed and sighs, hands gripping each other tightly. Feels her chest ache, her throat constricting. Here, alone, she allows it. Allows herself to cry – to sob, even – hot tears racing down her cheeks and dropping onto her lap.

She can feel it, feel Serena pushing her away. She always goes, always respects what she says she wants. Never goes further than the sofa, though, however much her back protests. There’s a look in Serena’s eyes, most times, that Bernie’s almost certain means _I don’t want you to go, not really. Please don’t leave me, I don’t really want to be alone._

It isn't always like that. Sometimes Serena burrows into her, grips her so tightly it hurts and her fingers leave marks on Bernie's skin. Holds her like she's terrified Bernie's going to leave her too (leave her again, _God, why did I ever do that?_ ). And Bernie holds her just as tightly, tries to hold the broken pieces of her heart together as best she can. Tries to suture the fragments with kisses and love and whispered promises that she's not going anywhere, is never going to leave her as long as she has any say in it, that she loves her. Hopes the force of her love offers some resistance against the tides of pain.

But sometimes Serena is tight, rigid, contained. Like she's using all her might to hold herself together. Like she doesn't want Bernie to be burdened with her pain so shoulders it all alone and pushes her away.

Bernie understands it – not the reason behind it, not the grief of losing a child. She’s lost young comrades, boys and girls who were almost children to her, like Arthur was to Serena, but she won’t ever pretend that it’s the same, that she knows what Serena’s going through. But professing a wish to be alone, a wish for someone to leave you alone when you’re desperate for them to stay? Telling them to go because you think that it’s better for them, that it’s unfair to want them to stay? That she understands.

She also understands that she needs to do something about it, needs Serena to know that Elinor’s death changes nothing, that she loves her just as much in her grief as in her joy. That Serena's pain is to some extent hers too, that she will feel it whether she's beside Serena or on the other side of the world. That she is _here_ , and that she is committed to Serena, and that nothing is going to change that.

The tears slow, eventually. Not because the pain has faded, but because she has no tears left for today. She sniffs, pulls a tissue from her pocket and dries her eyes, blows her nose. Sighs again and pushes herself up, goes to the dresser and opens a small wooden jewellery box. Her eyes land on the photo of Cam and Charlotte behind it, and she reaches to lightly stroke a fingertip across the glass. She's torn, wants to take it with her because it's precious, because this has made her realise just how fiercely she loves her children and how quickly they could be snatched away from her. But it would feel like rubbing salt into Serena's wounds, into the wide, angry, raw gashes in her heart and mind.

She compromises, pulls her phone from her back pocket and snaps a picture of the photo. And then she rummages in the jewellery box and lifts something out, studies it, nods once and slips it deep into her pocket.

*

Jason and Serena are watching _World’s Strongest Man_ when she gets in. Well, to be more accurate Jason is watching and Serena is staring blankly at the TV, and Bernie feels her heart ache so much it almost brings tears to her eyes all over again.

She makes them dinner, sets the table. As they eat Jason tells her what she’s missed on _World’s Strongest Man_ and Serena is silent, picks at her food. Bernie’s only been giving her small portions so as not to overwhelm her but she still can’t manage it all. She sends them out of the kitchen so she can tidy up, says goodnight to Jason when he goes up to his room. Washes the dishes and wipes down the counters, sorts the recycling and takes out the bins ready for the morning. All the domestic chores that she hated with Marcus and the kids but does for Serena without complaint, without even thinking about it. She doesn’t resent any of this – a realisation somehow both alien and perfectly, entirely _right_. She would do anything for this woman.

She washes and dries her hands, touches the hard lump in her pocket. Pads into the living room to see Serena back on the sofa, legs curled under her, that empty look on her face again. Doesn’t hesitate before sitting beside her even though there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance Serena will tell her she wants to be alone.

‘You don’t have to stay,’ Serena says flatly. ‘You don’t have to do all this for me.’

‘I know,’ Bernie replies. ‘I want to.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

Bernie reaches into her pocket and then for Serena’s hand, turns it so she can drop something into her palm. Withdraws her hand to her lap and waits.

Serena stares down at the object: it’s a ring, a single sapphire flanked by two modest diamonds, set on a narrow gold band. Then she looks at Bernie, her eyes wide.

‘Is– is this–’

‘No,’ Bernie says firmly, and sees the fear in Serena’s eyes replaced by relief and confusion, and just a touch of hurt.

‘Then what?’

‘I don’t want to marry you, Serena. Neither of us had good experiences of marriage, it doesn’t have good associations for us. And what we have feels so different,’ she smiles softly. ‘But I do want to make a promise to you.’

She pauses, gives Serena the chance to withdraw if she wants. But she just continues to stare at her, so Bernie takes a breath and carries on.

‘I love you, Serena. And I want you to know that I’m here, that I’ll be whatever you need me to be. If you need to be alone, if you truly don’t want me here, that’s fine – but I’m not going to choose to leave you again.’

Serena looks away, looks down at the ring in her palm as tears spill over. ‘I haven’t been good to you,’ she says quietly. ‘I’m sorry. It isn’t fair on you.’

‘No,’ Bernie says, reaching to lay a tentative hand on Serena’s arm. ‘You’re grieving, Serena. You don’t need to apologise.’

‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘Don’t ever say that,’ Bernie says fiercely.

‘I can’t,’ Serena says after a long silence broken only by the ticking of the clock and the soft rustle of a petal falling from a tired tulip, holding the ring out to her.

‘Why not?’ Bernie asks gently, not moving to take it. ‘I’m not doing this out of pity, or a sense of duty,’ she continues when Serena doesn’t reply. ‘I want to be with you, Serena, through everything – in sickness and health, for better or worse. I hate seeing you like this, and I would do anything to make it all better but I can’t. All I can do is be here for you.’

She pauses, swallows down the emotion constricting her throat again. Still Serena is silent.

‘All I can do is be here for you,’ she repeats. ‘I am committed to you, Serena. I was before this happened, and I still am – everything else might have changed but this hasn’t.’

‘I don’t want you to feel trapped,’ Serena protests.

‘I don’t,’ Bernie says.

‘I'm giving you the chance to escape, to run.’

‘I don't want to run.’

Finally Serena meets her eye. ‘Whyever not?’ she whispers. ‘Why on earth would you want to stay with me when I'm like this, when I keep hurting you?’

‘Because I love you,’ Bernie says simply. ‘Because the thought of being anywhere else, of not being here with you, hurts even more than seeing you in so much pain.’

Serena manages a watery smile, sniffs, and holds the ring up to look at it properly.

‘My grandmother’s,’ Bernie explains.

‘It’s not– you didn’t– Marcus?’ Serena stutters.

‘No, that was his family heirloom. Not that I ever really wore it.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Serena murmurs.

‘I don’t know if it’ll fit, I haven’t had chance to get it sized. And I don’t care where you wear it – whichever finger you want, even on a chain. But I want you to have it, to remind you I’m not leaving you. If you need to be alone that’s fine, I’m not going to smother you. But please don’t push me away because you think you’re saving me, or you don’t deserve me, or you should do this alone.’

Serena slips the ring onto the finger she thinks it’s most likely to fit. It’s too loose, spins round so the stones are hidden, digging into her flesh, but it’ll do for now.

And then she reaches for Bernie’s hand, laces their fingers. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ she says. ‘But I’m so grateful I have you.’

‘Always,’ Bernie says, thumb rubbing Serena’s knuckles. ‘As long as you want me.’

‘I’m– I’m not used to having someone. I’m used to having to do things alone, to be strong alone.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you.’

Bernie shakes her head, raises her free hand to caress Serena’s cheek. ‘For better or worse,’ she repeats.

‘Will there– will there ever be _better_ again?’ Serena asks shakily, the pain in her voice and eyes yanking at Bernie’s heart. And then, when on another night she would have retreated to her bedroom alone, Serena shifts closer, buries her face in the crook of Bernie’s neck, grips her shirt desperately.

‘There will,’ she murmurs, gathering Serena to her and holding her tight. ‘One day there will, darling. And I’ll still be here,’ she promises, pressing a kiss to the top of Serena’s head. ‘I’ll be here.’


	2. once upon a time i was falling in love, now i'm only falling apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Total Eclipse of the Heart (I love the Bonnie Tyler original, but [this cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lUYsvoFtIo>) is what I listened to on repeat while writing).

Bernie stays that night, Serena wrapped tightly in her arms. But when she gets back from work the following evening Serena is sat at the kitchen table, spinning the ring round and round on her finger. Bernie sinks into the chair beside her, studies her serious, worried expression. Waits.

‘I need some space,’ Serena says quietly, not looking up.

‘Okay.’

‘I’ve thought about it and I need to– to adjust. To everything.’

‘Okay,’ Bernie repeats.

‘You don’t– you don’t mind?’ Serena asks, raising her eyes to Bernie’s.

‘I meant what I said, Serena. Whatever you need.’

Serena smiles then bites her lip, blinks away tears, squeezes the ring between finger and thumb and feels the hard edges of the stones bite into her flesh, focuses on the pain there rather than the pain in her heart.

‘I’ll just go and get some things from upstairs, okay?’

When Bernie comes back down with her rucksack Serena is exactly where she left her.

‘You know where I am,’ she says softly. ‘Call or text, for any reason, at any time. As long as I’m not in theatre I’ll answer.’

She hesitates, then reaches to lay a hand on Serena’s shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ Serena says, covering it with her own. ‘I’m sorry.’

Bernie shakes her head, smiles sadly. ‘I understand, Serena.’ She bends to press a kiss to the top of Serena’s head, breathes in her scent, squeezes her shoulder. ‘I’m here if you need me,’ she says, then slips away.

*          *          *

Serena wakes in the dark, chest heaving and heart racing, gripped with panic. She reaches out to where Bernie should be but her hand lands on empty mattress. And then she remembers that Bernie isn’t here, hasn’t been here for almost a fortnight because she asked her to go. She clenches the cold duvet instead, feels her throat closing, forces herself to breathe through it.

Then, when she can move, she reaches blindly for her phone, squints against the sudden brightness of the screen and finds Bernie’s number, calls before her stubborn pride can interfere.

Bernie answers after three rings, breathless. ‘Serena?’

Serena can’t say anything, can barely breathe.

‘I’m here,’ Bernie says, voice hoarse with sleep, and Serena hears the rustle of sheets. ‘I’m here.’

‘Bernie,’ she manages eventually. ‘Please. I– I need you.’

‘I’m coming.’

*

Bernie lets herself in as quietly as she can, pads up the stairs, pushes open the bedroom door, closes it with the softest of clicks.

‘Serena?’ she whispers.

‘Bernie,’ she replies, still sounding almost as panicked as she did on the phone.

‘I’m here.’

Bernie toes off her shoes and crosses the room as quickly as she can, pulls off her hoodie and drops it to the floor, does the same with her pyjama top because she knows the feel of her skin will comfort Serena.

As she slips under the covers there’s the softest of sobs, and Bernie reaches to gently touch Serena’s shoulder.

‘Serena?’ Bernie repeats.

She’s trembling, taut, for a moment resists and Bernie thinks she’s about to snap at her to leave her alone. But she rubs her arm anyway, hand smoothing up and down her soft skin, and Serena turns into her, burying her face in Bernie’s chest, tears dropping hot and fast.

‘Alright,’ Bernie murmurs, nuzzling into her hair, holding her tight, ‘I’m here, Serena. I’m here now.’

The tears slow, and eventually Serena raises her head, and Bernie gently wipes her damp cheeks.

‘Sorry,’ she says, embarrassed, not meeting Bernie’s eye. ‘Had a bad dream.’

‘Nothing to apologise for,’ Bernie soothes, pressing her lips to Serena’s forehead and cradling her close.

*          *          *

Bernie becomes accustomed to waking to find that, at some point during the night, Serena has unbuttoned her pyjama top and pulled it open in order to feel her skin. After a week she gives up on pyjamas altogether, crosses to the bed in just her knickers; she doesn’t need them anyway, Serena will keep her plenty warm enough.

Serena peers at her over her book and frowns when she sees her shiver slightly.

‘Thought I’d save you the trouble of unbuttoning me,’ Bernie explains.

Serena looks away and an instant later Bernie is beside her on the bed, coaxing her to look up with a gentle finger under her chin. Bernie doesn’t know what to say, but when Serena meets her eye she finds she doesn’t have to say anything. She just blinks slowly, her face softening, the slightest of smiles touching her lips. And eventually Serena manages a tiny smile in return.

‘Come on then,’ Bernie says.

She takes Serena’s book from her unresisting hands and places it on the bedside table, gets up so she can slide under the duvet, switches off the lamp and holds out her arm. Serena curls against her, cheek on her breast above her heart, arm around her waist. Bernie holds her firmly, kisses the top of her head.

‘I do feel that you’re a little overdressed,’ she murmurs.

Serena chuckles, presses a kiss to Bernie’s warming skin. ‘Maybe I won’t bother tomorrow either. If you’ll keep me warm, that is.’

‘Always,’ Bernie promises. ‘For as long as you want me to.’

*

The next night Serena comes out of the en suite wearing just her knickers and the ring Bernie gave her, hanging on a long chain between her breasts. Already lying in bed, Bernie watches as she undoes the clasp and carefully places it on her bedside table, as she slips under the covers and shifts closer.

Serena moans, soft and low, as she settles against Bernie. She tries to remember the last time this much of their bare skin was in contact and finds she can’t, moans again when her nipple grazes Bernie’s, when Bernie’s hand automatically comes to rest on the small of her back, and is filled with a sudden, desperate hunger. She hasn’t felt anything other than grief and anger this strongly since–

 _No,_ she thinks firmly. _Not here, not now. Just for a little while._

She leans down over Bernie, their breasts pressing together, and kisses her, hard and wet and wanting.

‘Serena?’ Bernie asks, her voice hoarse with arousal, when Serena draws back just enough to gasp air into her lungs.

‘Make me feel something else,’ she pleads.

Bernie gazes up at her and sees the darkness of her eyes, feels the heat of her skin and the grasp of her fingers curling around her shoulder.

‘I– I want you, Bernie. So much. And I–’

Bernie cuts her off with a searing kiss, rolls them so she can press Serena into the mattress and press herself into Serena, swallows Serena’s moan as their hips roll together.

‘I love you,’ Bernie murmurs between kisses, as her fingers trail across Serena’s body. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’

*

‘I’m sorry,’ Serena murmurs into Bernie’s shoulder afterwards, embarrassed and guilty.

‘For what?’ Bernie asks gently, fingers stroking across Serena’s skin.

‘Using you like that,’ she whispers, barely audible.

‘No,’ Bernie says, voice still soft but firm now. She shifts, coaxes a reluctant Serena to look at her. ‘Don’t ever apologise for wanting me,’ she says, thumb brushing Serena’s cheek.

Serena’s gaze holds hers for a moment then slips away, hovering just over her shoulder.

‘And don’t think for one second that I didn’t enjoy that as much as you did,’ Bernie adds.

‘As much?’ Serena asks, trying to tease but her voice a little unsteady.

‘Well, almost as much,’ Bernie concedes with a smile.

Serena looks at her again, studies her. And Bernie doesn’t hide anything, lets it all show: her love, her desire, the incredible arousal borne of making love to Serena. Serena touches her face gently, sweeps her thumb across Bernie’s bottom lip; Bernie’s eyes flutter closed, lips parting and a puff of breath escaping.

And then Serena’s thumb is replaced by Serena’s mouth, and Serena’s hand is stroking down her throat, her sternum, a brief detour to caress each breast then down to her stomach, around her navel, lower, slipping inside her knickers.

Bernie moans. Serena gasps in surprise.

‘Very nearly as much,’ Serena murmurs.

‘Told you,’ Bernie manages, before the pad of Serena’s finger on her clit makes her shudder. ‘Close,’ she whimpers.

‘I know, darling,’ Serena soothes, and then kisses her again. ‘It’s alright, I’ve got you.’

*

They curl together in the darkness and cling to each other. Serena listens to Bernie’s heart as it gradually slows and steadies, closes her eyes and drifts into sleep before the elation can fade and the grief can seep back in, a smile still on her lips.

Bernie holds Serena tight, breathes in the smell of her shampoo and their mingled arousal. Hopes Serena will sleep through the night, hopes she won’t wake wracked with guilt at having enjoyed herself for a while. Hopes she won’t push her away in response, hopes she’ll let her continue to be here for her – thinks of her grandmother’s ring and the promise she made to Serena, silently vows to keep upholding it however much it’s hurt seeing Serena trying to cope alone, however much she’s desperate to be beside her.

‘I love you,’ she whispers into the darkness, pressing a kiss to the top of Serena’s head. ‘I’ll be whatever you need. But please let me be here for you.’


End file.
